Just Like The Old Days PPC
by Agent Mackenzie
Summary: A selfinsert gets recruited into the PPC and actually gets some work done. How long before she goes mad? HIRING! ALSO NEEDS BADFIC REPORTS. Send to email.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Algebra Quiz, problem #42: Solve the following equation.

Owner of PPC Jay and Acacia, Owner of LotR and all that comes with it JRR Tolkien

Jay and Acacia, JRR Tolkien ≠ Gabrielle

_Solution:_ Owner of PPC, Owner of LotR and all that comes with it ≠ Gabrielle

**Prologue**

There are many evils in this world; some are ecological, some were bound to happen whether we were here or not and some were purely man-made and cannot be revoked. War is one example; so is racism, hatred and a desire to be ahead. Better. Richer. Above all.

Compared to global warming, pollution, genocide, AIDS and the rapidly degenerating ozone layer, human being's desire for power seems like a small thing.

But it is not a small thing. In fact, it is worse than all the evils and disasters in this world put together.

Desire for power and superiority is, in fact, what caused all these problems in the first place.

Think about it.

Some people were different, as it is in all cases where there are 2 'sides', so to speak. Some people didn't want power; they just wanted to live their life in peace. Those people are the ones that we call 'authors'.

They realized that this world is so deep in its own self-created hell, that they knew there wasn't any possible way that they could escape it – short of committing suicide, which wasn't only futile, was also just plain stupid.

So they used their intelligence, and made it go a little farther than other people have tried. They used a small forgotten part of their consciousness called 'imagination', and created their own worlds in their heads.

There are various ways to use your imagination. Write songs, paint pictures, dance. But what made this branch of art different, was that people had to imagine their own world. They didn't have it laid before them in a painting, or told to them in the beauty of movement. It was written down on plain paper and the rest was left to the other people to _imagine_.

Books were very popular. Libraries were created; printing was invented; books were cherished, and reading became essential for people to learn.

And then came Hollywood.

Need I add?

Not that I have anything against Hollywood, of course; some of its fruits are works of art unto themselves. Movies are also a way to tell a story. But they don't make you _think_. They just lay it all bare, and the only thing you have to do is look.

I don't know who was the first person to adapt a written tale for the silver screen, but it became a trend. Many stories were now told, with one common difference: people's imaginations were unemployed.

Of course, when parts of you don't need to work anymore, you either stop using them and they become rusty, or that leaves you more room for different things.

There was one person that had a particular affinity for imagination. In fact, he used his so much that a whole world was created. In his mind, of course. He wrote it all down, and people became entranced by the _fullness_ of this place.

Of course you know who I'm talking about. Johnny Ronnie, or more commonly known as JRR Tolkien.

For a few decades, his tales were untouched and unbesmirched by the monster known as Hollywood. A few weak attempts were made, but they never really came through.

And then came Peter Jackson.

He was a genius in his own right, but he did not know what kind of monster HE was creating. He filmed the stories of JRR Tolkien with live actors, reenacting the tales told by the Headmaster.

And then came the fangirls.

Fangirls are defined by the Encyclopedia of the Inane as "known to rave, squeal, post until all hours of the night, faint, swoon, drool, save excessive amounts of photos, procrastinate and say 'Ohmigosh!!'. See also: complete nutter."

Of course, they're not always complete nutters. Some of them are intelligent enough to type.

And that was the downfall of canon.

A fair amount of these fangirls started writing fanfiction, which was already a venerable and honored institution unto itself. The problem was, they were so lust-crazy that they completely forgot that there was such thing as spell-check and BETA.

The stories were not about regular occurrences in Arda. Not at all. In fact, they were so far from canon, that they could barely be recognized as being fanfiction if it wasn't for the characters.

For this was the true reason fanfiction had flourished – lusters all over the globe began writing stories about their lust objects, who fall in love with them. Or, at least, a 'new-and-improved' version of them.

I'm sure you've all ran into one of those in fanfiction, one time or another. Perfect girls with beautiful bodies, perfect abilities and so nice that you could puke? They make you want to strangle them, and then strangle the author.

These are MarySues.

And they are the real evil of this world.

They are people's imaginary perfected versions of themselves. People that are not perfect create these characters, wishing that they were them. These characters then enter the canon, and ruin it. Desecrate it. Change it. Make it so screwed-up that even the canonical characters can't recognize it anymore.

And that is the real havoc – Mary Sues tamper with IMAGINATION. They don't leave people a right place to escape to when they grow weary of the hell that is Earth.

Enter the PPC – Protectors of the Plot Continuum. These tireless agents work night and day to clean the imaginary worlds of Mary Sues and make the canon a better place to imagine.

This is the story of a Mary Sue that became a PPC agent. Her road to becoming an agent in the Department of Mary Sues was riddled with prejudices, hate, pain and insane taxidermy-obsessed trainers.

This Sue was unique, though – she actually wrote herself. This meant one thing.

A person from Outside was now trapped in PPC HQ. Forever.

How long will it take for her to go completely insane?

Join us and find out.

**---**

**(Mackenzie's A/N: My name's Mackenzie and this particular idea came to me while reading one of my fics (that's a WIP). I'm not going to stop work on Chemical Reactions, though, because I'd like to see where exactly my mind will roll with the particular plotline.**

**So sue me (in the legal sense). I'm writing a slightly Mary Sue-ish story. That version of me is, in fact, a highly altered one. The sole reason that that is so is because I am so paranoid that I change my password every time I sign into any account – e-mail (which I have 10 of, lest a virus kill one) or otherwise – and then change it back, because my memory and I are in the middle of a particularly nasty divorce.**

**And for whoever was curious, Johnny Ronnie is my nickname for JRR Tolkien, whose full name is John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. My, what a mouthful. "JOHN RONALD REUEL! STOP DAYDREAMING!" Man, his mother must have been insane.**

**(I currently have 1 partner, but having another one won't be at all bad. I don't think I've heard of a PPC spinoff with a threesome (kinky ) as assassins. If you want to join myself in abolishing the Sues of this world, contact me at the e-mail in my profile or (in a review) leave your name, main fandoms, lust object and why you think you can cope with having a MarySue as a fellow PPC agent.**

**Also, to keep from excessive strife, I won't be accepting prospects who are Boromir Buffs. Sorry.)**

**A bit long for a prologue, I know, but better than the 200-word ones I did for my previous fics.**

**Until the beginning of the story, then!)**


	2. The Prophecy

**Disclaimer:** Algebra Quiz, problem #42: Solve the following equation.

Owner of PPC Jay and Acacia, Owner of LotR and all that comes with it JRR Tolkien

Jay and Acacia, JRR Tolkien ≠ Gabrielle

_Solution:_ Owner of PPC, Owner of LotR and all that comes with it ≠ Gabrielle

**---**

"Hey, Mary. Howya doin', Mary?"

These were only a fraction of the taunts that were thrown Mackenzie's way, as she tried (unsuccessfully) to trace her steps back to the response center that she had been shown for a few seconds before she was whisked back to SO's office.

_Understand_, the suited sunflower had informed her indifferently as he inspected his fronds, _that you will not be able to continue your Suvian activities in this agency. As you probably know, our agents will not hesitate carrying out my orders if they are of a sadistic nature. If you don't comply with the rules of this institution, I will have no qualms about releasing you_.

Mackenzie shuddered at the memory, and then shuddered at shuddering at the memory; reading 'The Giver' had given her particularly bad nightmares, and she knew exactly what SO meant by releasing. Or was it all in her mind?

She was becoming a bit too paranoid; after all, being almost-killed by an insane, displaced MarySue agent could be a bit traumatic, especially if you meant Lux. The slightly demented agent had been assigned to a fic that contained a mite of slash, but mainly a AragornOC pairing – the OC being a half-elf, quarter-man and quarter-Istari by the name of Aerlinniel, who was not tempted by the Ring, had the usual Suvian physique (big-boobs-tiny-waist-long-legs-nonexistent-thighs-long-blond-hair-urple-eyes), was 'wise beyond her years' and had Legolas on his hands and knees. Before Lux had tried to kill her, Aerlinniel had blacked out. When she woke up, she wasn't Aerlinniel anymore but her author, Mackenzie, who had self-inserted the MarySue into her badly-written fiction. Mackenzie had since then tried to escape Lux's attempts to strip her of her innards and mount her as a MarySue author on the wall of her cubicle. Fortunately, she was saved by the arrival of Lux's current love interest, and she escaped to Upstairs, where she got her response center assignment and her new partner.

"Response center F…wuzzat?" she yelped as a cold wind blew through her stomach. Looking wildly around her didn't amount to anything, as the hallway was empty, except for a door. The hinges were rusty, and a small, hastily scribbled sign was tacked to the door – 'response center F'.

Pushing the door open, she blinked. The immediate airspace in front of her was full of floating dust particles; apparently, someone – or something (anything was possible in the PPC) – had been in here before and stirred up the dust.

When the dust settled, the view became a bit clearer. The room was the size of your average telephone booth times 5; a computer console and some antique-looking machinery took up a good portion of the wall in the direct line of vision from the door, and a closet took up the part of the wall that wasn't occupied by the door. The big speakers situated on each side of the wobbling desk that held the electronic apparatus were covered by a whole inch of dust; the floor near the console was covered with a weirdly-shaped white rug; there was a green sofa sitting unobtrusively against the wall facing the console – the fact that it was the least dusty item in the room wasn't the only thing that set it apart. Above it hung what looked like a blue horse's head, mounted on a plaque of wood and held to the wall by a…magnet, of all things. Mackenzie blinked; although she wasn't surprised that the walls here were made out of pure iron, it still unnerved her. She had awful claustrophobia.

Next to the horse head hung a blinding necklace, secured to the wall with double-sided tape. On the console of the crumbling computer there was a glass case that contained a knife. Otherwise, the walls were completely bare.

The wind passed through Mackenzie's innards again, and she shuddered. "Show yourself!" she cried into the dustiness. She heard a chuckle and nearly screamed. The only thing that stopped her was the state of the room; it looked like any small disturbance will bring it crashing down.

"Didn't you hear what SO said?" said a disembodied voice. "Any Suvian activities, and you get thrown to the flamethrower-happy recruits from Outside as target practice. On my orders. Suvian activities include using Suvian forms of speaking, understood?"

Mackenzie nodded numbly, and then smacked herself upside the head. "I'm talking to myself…and hearing voices. This can't be good."

"You've got to learn," continued the voice with what Mackenzie thought was an amused tone, "that in the PPC, not only is anything possible, hearing voices does not make you insane, mainly because you already are for accepting a position here."

"Who are you and what do you want from my liver?!" Mackenzie was getting hysterical; the stress of the last 24 hours was starting to catch up with her.

"My name is Nate, I don't want anything from your liver and I'm technically dead."

"Come on," Mackenzie snapped testily. "You can't be technically dead, unless you're from the Hitchhiker continuum and if you are, WHAT am I doing here I do not know-" A thought suddenly occurred to her – she was speaking to a disembodied voice. She trailed off abruptly, and the disembodied voice chuckled bitterly.

"No, I'm LotR all the way. I was on a mission as an elf in Rivendell for the Bad Slash department. Apparently, Glorfindel wears his knives to bed with him – strapped to his _ankles_, of all places – even when he's doing the dirty deed. With Elrond, which is typical, although I like King-and-Herald ones better, even if they're badly written. I get to see naked male elves."

Mackenzie cocked a single eyebrow, but didn't interrupt the invisible-voice-known-as-Nate.

"Anyways. Since I'm such a valuable asset to the PPC, Nàmo agreed to return me to HQ under 2 conditions – I'm now sans body but I only get one for missions if I want it, and I'm stuck here for the rest of eternity, no parole options."

"Wow, poor you," Mackenzie commented sarcastically. "So you were the cold wind that-"

"Blew through you, yeah. Speaking of your liver, you might wan to cut down on the _nen en-naur_, my friend. Your organ doesn't really like you."

"Well I'm sorry, invisible Nate," Mackenzie snapped, "but you're not my superior and you can't tell me what to do." Throwing her bag into the corner, she scanned the room once more, and then furrowed her eyebrows. "Who the hell left this place so messy?" she wondered aloud.

"Jay and Rhus, actually," Nate said offhandedly. "They were out on a particularly bad songfic mission when all the portals went screwy. They were the only ones on mission, and nobody knows where they ended up when they stepped through the portal. Even though they were 2 of the best agents, the SO was too distracted by the new recruits to launch a search-and-rescue mission. We were so short on personnel for a while that Lux got a training job. It was a ball, scrubbing the scorch marks off of the desks…" There was a ripple of a sigh, and Mackenzie privately wondered how long ago Nate was sent back to the PPC.

"So settle down, Mackenzie," Nate said. "Just don't get too comfortable, or else we'll get a mission. And you're pretty new-"

"Excuse me," Mackenzie cut him off, "but I PPC'd my own story, okay? Do you know how painful it is to kill off an OC created by yourself? It's like killing your own kid."

"Oh, cry me a river and drown yourself in it," Nate said passively. Mackenzie growled, but took her luggage that she managed to grab from her house before she was dragged back to the PPC and headed over to the closet. After clearing out the Rammstein discs and replacing them with her won mixes (mostly the Beatles, Train and Coldplayesque stuff) from the racks and admiring the arsenal of weapons that was neatly taken care of (and took up a good two-thirds of the closet), she stuffed the bag into a corner and sat down at the console.

Before she switched the dusty machine on, she pulled open a drawer that was under the work surface. In it were a jumble of test tubes and bottles, some small and some big, all labeled in Jay's spidery script with some scientific name. Nestled in the corner of the drawer, there was a small booklet. Mackenzie opened it, and found, to her utter fascination, a complete listing of poisons and lethal substances that Jay had in the drawer, including their normal English names and their effects. There was everything there from liquid poison ivy to Gandalf's OFUM cooking – enough to last them until the Wheel stopped turning.

After ogling the drawer and throwing a few small bottles into her pack, Mackenzie turned to the computer and succeeded in turning it on without getting electrocuted. Opening the history file took a few minutes; when it was done loading from the database and she had scrolled through it, Mackenzie let out a low whistle. "Wowee. These girls have done everything from Legomances to an Elrond one, too. How long have they been here?" she asked the air – chiefly, Nate.

"PPC time isn't the same as outside," Nate replied. "There are hours and minutes and seconds, but age and things like that don't exist life-form wise. It applies to other things. Basically, if Jay and Rhus – and her prior partner, Acacia - had spent the amount of time they spent here in Outside, they would've been dead a few hundred Outside years ago. Jay would've, at least; Rhus was in Bad Slash. You age slower there, don't know why. Jay's previous partner, Acacia, took an indefinite leave of absence in ancient Rome and isn't showing any signs of coming back. Rumors are that she's attempting to seduce a gladiator." He snorted. "Anyways. You know how the remote activator and stuff work? Yes? Good. Now get comfortable and wait for the-"

/Bip./

"That?" Mackenzie said, swiveling her chair back to the computer and peering at the screen. "Ooooooh. Blatant Sue."

"Like you were?"

"Shut up, Nate. Now, let's see…"Mackenzie scrolled down, and scowled.

"What? Lust object messed with?" Nate asked.

Mackenzie nodded, then shook her head, and then frowned. "My lust object isn't really decided, but it centers on the world of the unblond and un-nancing; meanwhile it includes Boromir, Aragorn, Faramir and the peredhil twins. One exception to the non-nancing rule is Glorfindel. Main lust object is the waterlogged pincushion." Her scowled deepened. "And this bint messes with Boro."

Nate whistled. "Hoo boy. How bad?"

"Let's just say that she brings out my long-hidden sadistic streak. Not only does she claim him, she keeps him alive. And her grammar isn't exactly something to be proud of."

"Shall we, then?" Nate said laconically. "What shall we go as, then?"

"I say we intercept her after she saves Boromir, which is a major break in canon," Mackenzie said, tapping out the coordinates for the disguises. "There. We go as Uruk'hai. I wonder how it feels to be one?"

"Not pleasant, believe me," Nate grumbled. "You're all black, and your complexion is horrible."

"Life's a b!tch, what to do," Mackenzie said as she pressed the button and opened the portal. "Before we go…what weapon should I use?" She slid the door to the weapon rack open and scanned the weapons at her disposal, finger tapping her nose. "I suck at archery, so the poisoned bow is out. I think I'll try the knives…" She pulled 2 white-handled knives with their sheathes off the rack and strapped them to her back, Legolas-style. "Nifty." she unsheathed them with a whooshing sound and stared at the blades; they were the same exact ones that Legolas had used in the movies. Probably salvaged from a Sue.

"I'd like to pick my poison too, if you'd deign to move away," Nate said behind her, making her jump and nearly slicing her wrists in the process. Moving away, she watched as the weapons were rattled in their mountings, one by one, when finally the bow was thrown out of its moorings. "Can you carry that through he portal for me?" he asked, and Mackenzie complied, hefting the heavy bow and quiver of arrows onto her shoulder.

She took her backpack of gear into her hand and turned to the glittering portal. "We have to _observe the Suvian activities in order to gather charges so we have a justified reason to kill her_, or so the SO says," she recited in a monotone, adding the last comment under her breath. "We arrive in Rivendell, when the wench wakes up, after passing out when she 'encounters' Sauron after Galadriel speaks to her…" Mackenzie took a deep breath and finished "…from inside her alarm clock." She shook her head. "Even I wouldn't write something so plausibly silly."

"Shall we?" Nate said impatiently.

"Yes, we shall," Mackenzie said, and stepped through the portal.

"Wow, this feels…weird," Mackenzie said in her gravelly Uruk'hai voice as she examined her previously-neat, now-scraggly nails.

"Why is it that every girl that I meet has an unhealthy obsession with their nails?" Nate grumbled, shouldering the bow and quiver after wrestling it away from Mackenzie. Since he was in Uruk'hai form, Mackenzie couldn't tell how Nate looked in real life; she'd have to wait for Elf or Man form for that.

Scanning the words, Mackenzie muttered to herself, "We head to Rivendell."

**---**

"Will she live, my lord?" A soft voice asked.

"Yes." Came another voice, older, and wiser than the first, "She is wearing the strangest clothes."

"I agree." Said the soft voice, "How do you suppose she got here?"

"Hmmm… Wha?" Lexi murmured.

"The lady speaks!"

Lexi smirked and slowly opened her eyes, "Your powers of observation serve you well…" She stopped short, cutting off the end of her retort and stared at the two Elves in front of her. She gasped, covering her mouth with one hand, "Elves… I'm…"

"You are in Rivendell, my lady." Said the Elf, Elrond, "I am Lord Elrond."

"Messing with the characters…" Nate was scribbling on a pad with a sugar quill (these was a box of them in the bottom drawer of the closet, presumably stolen from the Harry Potter continuum). "Stating the obvious after doing it already…being repetitive…" He looked up at Mackenzie, whose Urukish mouth was hanging open. "Mackenzie?"

"I might just be adding Elrond to my list." Shaking her head, Mackenzie said, "Let's wait to see what else happens. The Words are jumping between commas and periods in the worst possible way. I have a headache already."

"What a strange name." Elrond said thoughtfully, "No doubt not from this world."

Lexi blinked, "Yes, I guess so… Not from Middle Earth, that's for sure."

"I see." The Half-Elf nodded, "We have been calling you Aeronwen before you awoke." Lord Elrond said.

"Aeronwen?" Lexi smiled, "That's a very pretty name. You can call me that too, if you like."

Lord Elrond nodded, "So we shall. You should rest. Your spirit has not healed from the encounter with the Dark Lord, Sauron."

"WHAT?" Lexi's eyes widened, and then she remembered seeing the great eye just before waking in this bed, "Oh. I guess you're right."

"Oh, I encountered the Dark Lord, Sauron (with a comma, mind you) just a few minutes ago. It was like a stroll in the park, sure. We had so much fun, comparing who does more actual harm to MiddleEarth. Of COURSE I won. I win at everything. And the Dark Lord Sauron is actually a PART of the freaking CANON."

"It's good to know you're sarcastic," Nate informed a fuming Mackenzie. "You're gonna need it for the rest of this story, which includes…" He read ahead a bit, and winced. "…messing with Gandalf's character and zapping in between worlds nonstop. Oh, and being the result of a PROPHECY."

"Repeat after me, boys and girls – prophecies are from Harry Potter, not Tolkien's universe. Thank you and have a nice flight through hell."

"Gotta go, Mack. Before you throw a fit."

"What?" Mackenzie scanned the Words again; her eyes widened, and she let out a feral growl. Nate took a few steps back from her, eyeing her apprehensively.

**---**

"I just want to see how OOC she is, that's all!"

"I'm not letting you in there, not with Arwen in the room." Nate had a firm grip on Mackenzie's arm, and was dragging her through the halls of Rivendell. "Not after reading your papers. Arwen IS Queen of Gondor at some point, you know. She could have you executed. And trust me, SO won't do anything to get you back."

"I – don't – care!" Mackenzie said, struggling to get out of Nate's half nelson. "I – want – to – kick – her – ass! She – doesn't – deserve – him – urk."

Nate had just deposited her on some very rough ground, and her head had made a dull thunking sound on the stone. "That wasn't nice," she muttered, rubbing the back of her head and glaring at Nate, who was wearing a smug expression on his face (it looked more like a grimace, considering Uruk'hai only know how to be PMS-ey).

"I'm not staying around to see how she messes with Arwen and the rest of Rivendell. Let's portal forward, to when she meets Frodo."

Mackenzie pushed the button on the remote activator; the portal winked into life and she walked through it, Nate on her heels as he scanned the same vague scenery.

After a year's worth of training, Aeronwen had finally mastered the bow and knife throwing. She was not as good as an Elf, but much better than a Man. Rarely during that year had any of the Elves seen Aeronwen and Mathúin apart.

"A hobbit has arrived with your daughter. He is badly injured. Come quickly." An Elf said to Elrond.

"LET ME AT HER! C'MON!"

"She's kind of busy now, Mackenzie," Nate said, forcibly restraining Mackenzie from getting any closer to Elrond.

"C'MON! SHE'S ONLY – urk."

"Arwen Evenstar, fairest of the Elves of MiddleEarth and future Queen of Gondor."

"She doesn't deserve it," Mackenzie growled, staring daggers at Aeronwen's retreating back.

"And you do? Come on, let's explore."

Mackenzie smiled ferally. "Yes, let's."

**---**

_Chirp…chirp…chirp…_

"Stop, please. It's driving me crazy."

"Too bad," Mackenzie said, her voice muffled by her digital camera squished up against her nose; in her excitement over finding it in her bag, she forgot that digital cameras have screens and you didn't have to look through the viewfinder.

Nate had tried to point this out, but Mackenzie had just whacked him on his head with her bag. Needless to say, it did the job.

"There, done." Mackenzie stowed the camera back into her bag with a satisfied sigh. "Wish this sucker had more memory. I'll ask Makes-Things, I guess. Wonder how weird he is?"

"You don't want to – uh oh, major canon break…"

"Chapter 4 – The **Ten** Walkers…" Mackenzie convulsed. "…ten…"

"Humming 'Rent'…" The pad and paper were out again, and Nate was scribbling intently. "Quoting the movie…having special weaponry given to her by a bit character…better than a canon giving her, anyways…massing with Gandalf's character yet again…and – woah."

"Here come the Vicious Birds of Wrath!" Mackenzie cheered. The Sue looked towards them, and looked right past them at Boromir. A dreamy look crossed her face, and Mackenzie scowled.

"Mess with him, b!itch, and you'll regret the day you entered your Suvian life."

"She messes with him the whole story. You might as well adapt to it."

"And under the bushes we go…"

"And she goes along with Boromir."

"I cannot WAIT to get my hands on her."

**---**

"Dum-dee-dum-dum…" Nate was humming as they sat by the Watcher's lake, skipping stones and planning good ways to kill Aeronwen.

Mackenzie was sitting next to him, eyes closed and leaning back, deep in thought. After all, this was her first kill as an official PPC agent; she had to make it special.

"And here they are…thank God," Nate sighed in relief.

"Mmm – oh, what?" Mackenzie murmured.

"She doesn't mess with Frodo's lines. Or Gandalf's. I hate to admit that this is a first for me in bad fanfiction."

The door creaked open, and the agents hurried in behind the Fellowship and the Sue. "And the Watcher…"

Scaly tentacles shot out of the water straight at the group; Mackenzie and Nate had enough foresight to move out of the way.

"…knocks her to the side!" Nate declared gleefully. "1-0 for the Watcher!"

"Let's just go to Lothlòrien before I puke. Please?" Mackenzie groaned as she watched Aeronwen getting all smarmy with Boromir in the pitch-black mines.

"Okay…hang on," Nate said cautiously as Mackenzie was packing up her stuff. "You might want to close your eyes as the Khazad-dûm chapter passes by. She treats Gandalf's falling into shadow like a movie. Quoting: '"Shush. This is the coolest part… I wish I had popcorn." Aeronwen said.

"POPCORN?! GANDALF IS DYING AND YOU WANT BLEEPING **_POPCORN_**?!"

"For the thausandeth time, Mackenzie, calm down!" Nate was losing his patience, and as we all know, boys and girls, when PPC agents lose their tempers...

_THWACK_.

"That wasn't very nice."

**---**

"Gag me with a pitchfork, please."

"I don't have one, but I have poisoned arrows. Here-"

"That was sarcastic, you dimwit. Little Mary's reciting poetry."

"And as touching as it is, it was never there; Sam hits the spot when he says that it's different. So different that canon couldn't touch it with a ten foot pole."

Mackenzie and Nate were sitting on the small shelf above Galadriel's fountain that fed her mirror, sharing some chocolate and arguing amicably. The Fellowship's clearing was a few feet away, and the Sue was standing in all her glory and reciting.

"Has her own room…Galadriel comes to visit her in the middle of the night…all standard Sue-ishness. Let us sleep," Mackenzie proclaimed, spreading out her bedroll and falling asleep the minute her head touched the cloth.

Nate rummaged through Mackenzie's bag; he came up with _The Complete Hitchhiker's Guide_, a bar of Toblerone and a Discman. "Who ever said I couldn't multitask?" he muttered with an insane grin on his Uruk face.

**---**

"Thank God Makes-Things had that straitjacket."

"Mmmpfff…"

"I wish he could've given me a set of wheels to go with it, too; I think that would've been pushing it a bit too far, though. Telling him that I'm from response center F alone sent him under the table. You're pretty heavy for an Uruk'hai, you know."

Nate bit through his gag and said, spitting out cloth as he did so, "ALL – ppfftt - Uruks are heavy, idiot. Now – ppfftt - let me out."

Mackenzie sighed dramatically. "Fine," she grumbled, untying the apparatus that was restraining Nate and stowing it in her pack. "I'm doing this purely for myself; and besides, we can use this for Aeronwen later."

Nate straightened out and glared at Mackenzie. "One day…" he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, yes, but that day isn't today." Mackenzie waved a big black hand vaguely in the air and shrugged. "We have more important work to do."

"Hell yeah," Nate said with an evil grin.

The agents had stole a Lothlòrien boat; the elves were so out of it that they didn't even notice, and the Fellowship was so deep in Aeronwen's grasp that of COURSE Aragorn wouldn't notice that there were 2 Uruk'hai in an Elven boat floating behind them, even if he WAS a Ranger.

"Mackenzie, _please_ stop throwing rocks at Aragorn."

Mackenzie pouted. "Fine. Can we portal ahead?"

"We have to be on scene in case of any more canon breaks."

"Bummer. Can I portal ahead and you stay?"

"No, we have to stay together."

"Joy."

**---**

"I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!"

"Really?" Nate commented mildly as Mackenzie stood on the top of Amon Hen, punching her fist up into the air. "I never knew you were a transvestite."

"Fine. I'm the QUEEN of the world, then!"

Nate groaned. "Mackenzie, PLEASE stop fooling around and do something."

Mackenzie shrugged and flopped down onto the ledge, swinging her legs. "Nothing to do. They're not here yet."

Nate shrugged. "Fine. Think of a good way to kill her off, then. After all, this IS your first mission. You have to make it special."

"What did you do with your first Mary Sue?" Mackenzie asked, and then blinked. "Hey, I'm a poet and I don't even know it!"

"Actually, my first Mary Sue was in the Harry Potter continuum. I fed her to the basilisk; the second one was sent to Remus Lupin when he was in full werewolf mode. Pretty unoriginal. Now the SO decided that you can take Sues into other continuums, under the condition that you stay there to make sure they're dead and then dispose of their bodies."

"Oh goodie!" Mackenzie rubbed her hands together gleefully. "But I have a ME idea. Why don't we send her to dem Oliphaunts? They love stomping…or maybe Mount Doom?"

"Both are overused," Nate said. "Try something that you'll never forget."

An unholy gleam came into Mackenzie's eyes. "Yeeeeeesss…"

**---**

Aeronwen changed her sword to her left hand and reached for one of her elven knifes with her right. She came upon Boromir protecting Merry and Pippin. He fought the Uruks heroically. Then, Aeronwen spotted the Uruk-hai with the bow with the arrow already notched. The monster sneered when Boromir spotted him. "NO!" Aeronwen cried, throwing her knife and the same time the Uruk-hai let the arrow fly.

"AERONWEN!" Boromir yelled, "GET OUT OF HERE!" Then the arrow hits his left shoulder. He stumbled backwards.

Aeronwen drew another knife and sprinted towards Boromir as the Uruk-hai notched another arrow and fired. Aeronwen threw her knife as she stood in front of Boromir. The Uruk's arrow lodged itself in her stomach. Aeronwen grunted, drawing her third knife, "DIE YOU BASTARD!" She threw her knife with all her might, but the Uruk-hai somehow blocked it and then shot another arrow into her ribcage. She stumbled backwards, struggling to draw her fourth knife.

"Aeronwen!" Boromir struck down another orc, but he was obviously drastically weakened by the arrow in his shoulder.

The Uruks took Merry and Pippin while overwhelming the wounded Boromir. Her vision became blurry, "Just kill that bastard…" She whispered, but she was too weak to throw the knife very far, "SHIT…" She growled. She saw a very blurry Aragorn fight and kill the Uruk-hai with the bow.

Another Uruk'hai stepped out from behind a tree, holding what looked like a...unicorn horn? Grinning in a scary way, it touched the point to Aeronwen's wounds and they healed instantly. Aeronwen blinked - it _was_ a unicorn horn...but why was this Uruk so nice?

That thought was abruptly retracted when the Uruk took hold of he arrow in her ribcage, put a foot against her stomach and pulled hard. As it came out, the Sue fell to the ground, unconscious from the pain. (Hey, you would, too.)

The remaining Fellowship drew their swords again, but they seemed unsure of their actions. As one Uruk slung Aeronwen over its shoulder, another one stepped into view from behind a tree, leant down to a gasping Boromir and broke his neck.

"Sorry, Mack, but we have to stay with canon," it grumbled to the its companion, who was staring at the man's lifeless body with something akin to horror.

Pressing a button, a glimmering oval appeared in the air and they stepped through it.

**---**

"Blerg," Mackenzie wrinkled her nose, "this place reeks."

They were standing on the brink of what looked like a lake full of mud, and the stench rivaled every rotten thing you have ever smelled times a million.

"Well, you put in the coordinates," Nate remarked, throwing the pack onto the ground, careful to avoid the sluggish gray mudlike substance. "What do you mean to do?"

Mackenzie threw the Sue onto the ground, not caring if she slipped into the 'lake'. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a Reese's cup and a vial of some clear substance. Shaking a few drops of the liquid onto the chocolate. she shook the Sue into consciousness.

The Sue cracked one eye open, saw an Uruk holding out chocolate to her and grabbed at it; Mackenzie held it right out of her reach. "Alexandria Jackson, or better known as Aeronwen-" she snorted derisively "-you are hereby charged with stretching the canon by inserting yourself into the Fellowship; forcing Lord Elrond to say a sentence that totally opposes his most fundamental beliefs; messing with the characters of Boromir, Galadriel, Gandalf, Denethor, Faramir, Aragorn, Arwen and basically every other character you came into contact with; twisting the flow of time and space; keeping Boromir alive and being a Mary Sue. Any last words?"

"I – want – that – chocolate!" the Sue gasped, grabbing at the peanut butter treat. Mackenzie relented; stuffing it into her mouth, a look of bliss came over the Sue's face, and then shock. Clutching at her throat, she struggled to breathe and was still.

"I'll give you the honors," Nate muttered, "I have to go kill Mathùin." Stepping through the portal, he just missed seeing Mackenzie heave Aeronwen's body into the acidic lake and cackling evilly as it sank beneath the surface.

Back in HQ, Mackenzie was sipping a Diet Coke with lemon as a portal winked into life; she saw an Uruk'hai approaching it, and then there was nothing there. The portal shut, and she felt Nate waft into the armchair next to her.

"Congrats," he said tiredly. "Not a bad job. You better be careful, though. The agents in this particular center are known to be plagued by-"

/Bip./

**---**

**(Mackenzie's AN: Very, very painful. So painful I almost cried. Mainly because the bint gets Boromir at the end when I'm the one that deserves him...um...ignore that...-shiftyeyes-**

**My offer from the prologue still stands. I've only had one application meanwhile, so get those keyboards humming, people!**

**Flames are appreciated, because the iron walls in the center make the room awfully cold; we stick them in a metal box and they make us nice and toasty.**

**For those of you with the morbid-fascination gene, the story is by Aoi Dragon. Read it at your own risk.**

**Asteraceae Helianthus - the scientific term for a sunflower. Just so you know. Yes, I'm bored. Why else would I be writing this? Other than to purge the world of MSs, that is.**

**And can someone, for the love of Eru, PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT AN MST IS?!)**


	3. Tengra Seregaha

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters. Getting really tired of this...

**thisisadivider.thisisadivider.thisisadivider**

"Does the computer have anything better to do than BIP all the time?" Mackenzie's muffled (yet annoyed) voice came out from the provisions cabinet, where she was searching for some Hershey's Cookies & Cream™ bars and replacements for the decimated Toblerone™. Of course, the traces of 'Sue in her compelled her to throw in a bottle of mineral water; the traces of PPC that have started building up already compelled her to throw in some cans of Diet Pepsi™ and a thermos of Dunkin' Donuts™ French Vanilla coffee; and the rationalist in her (which was already hidden behind the bloodlust that commence with Aeronwen's death) wondered just how hyper she could get on that much caffeine and sugar (and how many brand names she could throw into one paragraph).

"Yes, it does," Nate said while rattling the weapon rack again, looking for a tool of destruction to fit his mood (thoroughly pissed). "It just chooses to do it more frequently when you're here. Call it an unofficial initiation ceremony."

"Then what does the real thing involve?" Mackenzie asked, pulling her head out of the cabinet and walking 3 paces to the refrigerator/oven-type-thingy-to-keep-things-warm/replicator (on permanent loan from Agent Steiner from the Bad Slash: Star Trek continuum) unit. She dropped her hyper-attack-inducing duffel bag on the green couch next to the bizarre highly impromptu kitchen and started digging for some normal food – namely, Chinese. (The only type of takeout worth eating, except Italian.) Throwing some cold packaged egg-rolls into her bag, she considered adding the ramen noodles, but decided against it, putting in a couple of fortune cookies. She then ambled over to the console to check out their mission.

"Hmmm…" Mackenzie said speculatively. "This one is creative…" Taking a closer look at the screen, she snorted. "Right. And I'm the Queen of Gondor."

"You _wish_ you were," came a mutter from the corner.

"Shut it," Mackenzie snapped. "This one snags Elrohir. The one thing that I hate the most – except loss of chocolate – is authors that read the books and still commit these crimes against canon." She scrolled down, and grinned. "We get to be ELVES."

"Yippee!" Nate crowed. "I finally get to see my incredibly handsome self again!"

Mackenzie inwardly highly doubted that, but she didn't comment. Instead, she set the disguise thingy, tapped in the coordinates and hefted the bag onto her shoulder. A cold wind blew through her head, and she yelped.

"Don't forget my axe," Nate said coolly. Mackenzie grumbled, but took the axe into her free hand and pressed the big red button to deploy the portal. A shimmering oval appeared in the air; beyond the purgatory-like mist that covered it, she could make out the cold plains of the Northern regions of Middle Earth.

"Hope the disguises include coats," she muttered, and stepped through the portal.

Her feet hit soft turf, and she looked down to find herself standing on top of the snow. She cautiously picked up her foot, and stamped it down on the snow; raising it again, she saw no sign that anything had touched the snow in the last 300 years.

While she was repeating this, she failed to notice the presence of another being in her surroundings until Nate whupped her upside he head. She yelped and turned around, and almost fainted. Nate wasn't lying when he said that he was handsome when he was alive. In fact, he was drop-dead gorgeous. His hair was coal-black, and grey eyes glinted as if they were dipped in glue and then sprinkled in silver sparkles.

And now that he was an Elf, well…it made it even better.

Mackenzie didn't notice that she was staring (and shivering so violently that someone else would've thought that she was having a seizure) until Nate bitch-slapped her. She gasped furiously, holding a hand to her cheek and glaring at Nate. He sighed, clearly annoyed, and said, "It was the only way to rouse you from the stupor that my looks have put you in. You'll have time to gawk later." He stomped towards the vague-looking village that was a mile or so away from them, and Mackenzie followed.

_He's definitely a rotten apple,_ Mackenzie gloomily thought as she trudged on behind him.

**thisisadivider.thisisadivider.thisisadivider**

**Tengra leapt through the air, imagining no tune in particular. She spun and sang out her feelings in a clear voice.**

"Ugh," Mackenzie winced, squinting at the Sue between the trees that they were hidden behind. "Not only does the grammar suck, this Sue has to have a 'clear' voice."

Nate was next to her, scribbling in the pad yet again. "Hmmm…" he murmured. "Didn't quite catch her name…" he pulled out his CAD and pointed it at the twirling girl.

-Tengra Seregaha. Female Elf. Mary Sue.-

Suddenly, the Sue perked up, her eyes gleaming with what could only be described as bloodlust. She dashed towards the village with all the grace of a deer, while the two agents followed her in a swift but silent advance.

When they reached the village, the scene that lay before them was one of disaster. Houses were burning, Elves were lying dead in the dirt and Orcs – Orcs were everywhere. Slashing at the ones that were still alive, savaging the ones that had been sent to Mandos' Halls already and roaring with the joy of death.

Even though this wasn't a real village, these weren't real Orcs and the Elves in the dirt were only bit characters, the stench of Orc and burning bodies was still very much real. Mackenzie's eyes widened and she looked as if she was going to swoon, when strong arms caught her from behind. "Steady now," a voice murmured in her ear, and she was leant against a stone wall, away from the battle.

"I thought you were tougher than that," the voice said again, but this time, the owner of said voice was right in front of her. Mackenzie blinked; he looked suspiciously familiar…didn't he clean the toilets in her local cinema?

"Here, take," he said, handing her two pills. She put them in her mouth and bit down; they tasted like cleaner fluid – bleach, to be more exact. Suddenly wide awake, she started coughing, and the apparition handed her a bottle of water. She gulped it down, and sighed as the taste was washed out of her mouth.

"Must be outdated," the apparition muttered, shaking the bottle of pills. Mackenzie blinked again, and her vision sharpened. It wasn't an apparition – it was Nate.

Shame. She was hoping for an entertaining –

"Are you coming?" Nate was on his feet already, and (only because she had no other choice) Mackenzie grabbed the hand that he held out to her and pulled herself up. Dusting herself off, she nearly fainted again. The scene around her was blurry and she didn't smell anything different, but Nate was sharp. It was as if her mind was blocking out the horrible scene of slaughter in front of her. Mackenzie blinked. _What_ scene of horrible slaughter? She seemed to remember…but then again…it was dim…

"Bleeprin," Nate said, as he unzipped Mackenzie's pack and searched for the remote activator to portal ahead 700 years to Bree. "Invented by Meir Brin of the HFA. Fuzzes the effect badfic has on your brain. I gave you the extra-strength, so it's going to disappear from your mind except as a dim wisp of thought."

Mackenzie said nothing, just stepped through the portal.

**thisisadivider.thisisadivider.thisisadivider**

Sitting outside of the Prancing Pony on a low stone wall, Mackenzie was nibbling on a bar of Irish Cream-filled milk chocolate from Israel (another gift from Agent Steiner; Mackenzie was seriously considering marrying the man if he ever proposed, only for his chocolate supply) and Nate was swinging his feet. They were waiting for 'Tengra' to arrive in Bree; they had portalled in a little earlier on purpose, so Nate could get some rest and Mackenzie could get some fresh air and rejuvenate with some chocolate. Mackenzie was recuperating nicely, but Nate couldn't close his eyes. He had something building up in him, something big, that he had to get out before he exploded…

"I'm gay," he blurted out to Mackenzie, who paused for a moment, looked at him and then went right back to her chocolate as if no one had just come out of the closet to her.

Nate frowned; he had done it at that moment on purpose, wanting Mackenzie to choke on her chocolate. Unfortunately, she didn't.

After chewing a chunk of the chocolate thoughtfully, she swallowed and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "I knew it. Not only did you work in the Bad Slash department, you also boast about your looks and like Rand, when nobody in their right mind would like someone so angsty. I, personally, like Perrin. But that's just me – wolfish men magnet." Only hesitating a short moment, she broke off a piece of her chocolate and offered it to Nate. He looked at her – her eyes were understanding. He nodded, smiled, took the chocolate and took a bite.

He didn't know Mackenzie that well or long, but he knew her enough to realize that when she offered him her chocolate, it was her way of saying 'I think you're just fine'.

He chewed contemplatively. It felt good to be thought of as fine.

"**_A cute name."_ She thought. _"The owner's daughter must've named it."_**

"JESU CHRISTO!" Mackenzie yelped, jumping off the low wall that they were perched on and pulling Nate off with her. "She went in and we didn't even notice," she muttered. "Not good." She practically flew into the inn, with Nate hot on her heels.

Entering the pub, Mackenzie looked at the keg of ale behind the counter longingly. "Sometimes," she said wistfully, "I wish I could be un-cloaked in Middle Earth, if just to taste the ale. Just a little sip…" She trembled, and Nate pulled her over to a vacated table in the corner and sat her down.

"In your state," Nate stated calmly, "I don't think you should have anything but Bleeprin, chocolate and chicken soup." Putting his palm to her forehead, he yelped and quickly withdrew; looking at his hand, he could see large, shiny burns developing already. "Man, this is bad," he muttered, and pulled a shivering Mackenzie to her feet. "Let's get this over with and get you to the medics, fast."

Fumbling with the remote activator, he opened a portal to Rivendell and stepped through it, practically carrying a flushed Mackenzie through along with him.

**thisisadivider.thisisadivider.thisisadivider**

"**Orcs! Rally the fighters!" **

"**How many Glorfindel?"**

"**Five score! All marked up with red circles!"**

**Tengra shot awake. Images of the orcs who had slaughtered her kin leapt into her brain. They had been big, burly, and covered in crimson, circular scars from red hot brands. She grabbed Mothdagor, Ereb, Vanwa, and her bow and quiver. She pulled on her boots, not bothering to change out of her dress, and raced toward the gates of Rivendell, Bloodrage building up, fueled by the pain of her tribe's murder. She ran pell-mell past the organized ranks of elven warriors, headed by Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir.**

Two strange Elves stepped out from the ranks, and one of them held a large, gilded blue-and-gold shield in front of him. He held it out in front of Tengra, and she crashed into it before she could stop herself.

It was quite comical, actually, to see her body collide with the hard plates of _mithril_ and fly back in the air in a graceful arc before landing at Elladan's feet. Picking her up, he started sobbing like a pansy; he then heard a scream of rage, and looked up to see the companion of the Elf that concussed Tengra stomping towards him. Stopping when she was inches from his face, she slapped him – hard – across the face, and then pulled Tengra from his arms and stomped back to her companion.

He pulled out a bottle of water, splashed it on Tengra's face to wake her and then poured some into his mouth. After he finished drinking, he stuffed the bottle back into his pack and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Shall I do the honors, Mackenzie?" he asked the still-fuming _elleth_ beside him. She nodded, too enraged to speak.

He cleared his throat and made as if to straighten his tie when he realized that he had none. Rubbing his chin instead, he said to the struggling Tengra (who was being held down by the female Elf), "Tengra Seregaha, I hereby charge you with messing with the characters of Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond and Aragorn; having an unbearably beautiful voice; causing thousand-year-old elves to behave like spoilt human teenagers; bolding the whole EFFING story – which lead to a whole bottle of Visine being used in 5 minutes; atrocious overuse of exclamation points, absence of normal grammar and no apostrophes visible on the horizon; causing Middle Earth characters to use modern slang; having color-changing eyes; creating a location mini-Balrog; stealing Kari's man, and being a Mary Sue." Looking to the female Elf beside him, who was holding Tengra by her hair with a dangerous glint in her eyes, he said, "I'll give you the honor of taking her down, Mackenzie."

The Elf called Mackenzie smiled sadistically. "Thank you, Nate. How kind of you. Would you hold her up for me, please?" Nate held the biting and kicking Tengra up by her hair (the warrior was surprisingly light – after all, she was an airhead) and away from himself with one hand; her feet weren't touching the ground.

Mackenzie reached behind her back and pulled out two bone-handled knives; their long blades glinted in the late afternoon sun as she held them against the Sue's throat. The 'Sue started whimpering. Mackenzie was about to slash her throat when Nate stopped her. "WAIT!"

Mackenzie lowered her knives and glared at Nate, her cheeks flushed with bloodlust and high fever. "This," she growled, "better be VERY, VERY good."

"I'd like to have a hand in the killing," he said. She considered it for a moment and nodded. Handing him one of the knives, they held the blades against the Sue's throat, one above the other.

"Any non-sentimental last words?" Mackenzie asked sweetly, summoning up some of her nearly extinct Suvian charm to make the girl squirm.

"TENGR-"

_Swish._ The Elvish-made blades cut swiftly and surely, making a soft sound as they cut through the Sue's neck. The crowd of Elves in front of them flickered once, twice, and then disappeared – after all, there were never Orcs with red branded circles in their flesh, so there was no reason whatsoever for the Elves to be standing at the gates.

Mackenzie pressed on the remote activator and stepped through the portal that appeared. Nate followed her, holding the body by the hair. A soon as he stepped through, he disappeared and the body slumped to the floor.

"What were you planning on doing with the body, Mackenzie?" he asked. She didn't answer, just strode to the bookcase next to the closet and pulled out a slim booklet. She leafed through it, muttering all the while, until she pointed at something and grinned. "Number 10 looks like an excellent idea," she said. Snapping the booklet shut, she strode over to the console, tapped out coordinates and pressed the big red button.

The portal that opened brought sounds of fierce growling into the room. Mackenzie picked the Sue up and threw her into the portal; running over to the console, she closed the portal before any of the Wargs (at least, Nate ASSUMED they were Wargs) made their way into response center F.

Only then did Mackenzie allow herself to faint. Nate sighed and flew out the door, searching for someone to take care of the agent, and didn't seem to notice the pair of gleaming eyes in the corner of the room.

**thisisadivider.thisisadivider.thisisadivider**

**(Mackenzie's A/N: -SNIFFLE- Colds suck. Especially when your parents don't believe you and force you to stay at school. Bah. Anyways, the story is from - they all are, unless I say otherwise. This one was horrible. Besmirching Elrohir's reputation - AND stealing him away from Kari - is punishable by death. Which she was...but that's a different matter entirely.**

**I should stop rambling, shouldn't I? Yes. Anyways.**

**NEED more agents. Too many 'Sues. Am drowning in sparkly, pink flood. Send me an e-mail if you want to help, telling about your qualifications to be an agent, your lust object and anything else you find important.**

**Until the next 'Sue!)**


	4. Tarianna Gifted Lady

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters. OFUM belongs to Miss Cam; her site is listed in my profile.

**Note:** The sentiments in this chapter expressed towards a certain group of people in our society by a certain character are by no means and any under circumstances shared by me. They are just there because they're…necessary. I do not mean any harm to any people who get offended from these, and I apologize to anyone who takes them too seriously.

---

"I have much better things to do with my time than look for the Doctor. Why can't we just send her to Elrond? Why do I always get stuck with the volatile agents as partners?"

"You better shut up before I make you, Nate."

"And how will you do this, exactly? I, after all, am invisible and nearly non-existent."

"Does the pair of words 'vacuum cleaner' mean anything to you?"

Silence.

Aylah sighed gratefully and pushed the door to the Infirmary open. The Doctor was sitting there, twisting her thorns idly and reading Nora Roberts. When she saw Agent Aylah at the door, she jumped up (scattering the pile of trashy romance novels that was previously resting on her stalk-knees in the process) and trounced over to Aylah.

"What is it this time, dear?" she breathed (the Doctor rarely ever spoke, she only _breathed_; it came off sounding much more romantic) as she laid a frond against her forehead. Aylah pushed the Doctor off her, looking distinctly creeped out.

"It's not her, Doctor," Nate said. "It's my partner. Mackenzie."

"Oh, Mackenzie," the Doctor breathed, tiptoeing over to her desk and pulling a black doctor's bag out of one of the drawers. "I had her in here for mandatory checkups when she first came in. How's she doing, Nathaniel?"

Nate winced at his full name (thank god she didn't know the middle one) and replied, "She caught cold. Even as an elf, she has no tolerance for low temperatures." He added as an afterthought, "Or maybe it was just the shock of the REALLY bad fic we were sent to neutralize."

The Doctor nodded sympathetically as she flitted around the infirmary, gathering various necessary items. When she was done, she snapped her bag closed and motioned for Aylah to follow her into what looked like a broken-down elevator in the corner of her office.

"It's a broken-down elevator," she explained to the visible and invisible agent. They both nodded (there were some things that Nate did out of hard-drilled-in habit that he couldn't get rid of, even though he was invisible). "If you think about the place you _least_ want to be in, it'll take you there. Think of response center F." She stepped in, Aylah after her, and Nate flew in right before the door clanged shut.

He blinked, and they were in front of the door. Aylah's eyes widened and she was about to ask how exactly did they get there that fast, when the Doctor answered her question. "Nathaniel must dread his job greatly." She smiled sinisterly as she turned the knob and walked through the door. "He can't escape, though." Her tinkly laugh floated through the doorway, as did her blood-curdling scream a second later. Sounds of crackling drifted through the doorway together with a faint smell of a Texas barbeque.

Aylah hurried in and Nate followed her. When the smoke cleared and Aylah had stopped coughing, they saw what looked like the remnants of the Doctor in a small pile of aromatic ash on the floor. Mackenzie was grinning insanely (and possibly deliriously) from her green-couch-turned-bed, and beside her sat a mini-Balrog, munching a turkey bacon sandwich and wearing a shiny array of jewelry.

Meeting their questioning gazes, she croaked out, "This is Thraudil, my ward from OFUM. Adopted him a few months back. Ask him to get-" a fit of sneezing attacked her and it was a few minutes before she could regain her ability to talk "-ask him to get some athelas from Miss Cam." She then fell back to her makeshift cul-de-sac, shivering and occasionally sniffling.

Aylah shook her head sympathetically. "This has to run its course, Agent. Give her some hot liquids and copious amounts of chocolate and quarter her off for a few missions. Go to the Recruits kennel to get a temporary replacement. Good luck." She left the center with a sigh of relief.

---

"We're off to see the recruits, the evil recruits from hell…" Nate sang softly under his breath as he floated towards the chair in front of the Sarraceniaceae (better known as pitcher plants – the fly-eating kind) manning the desk. One of the dull yellow plants looked up, grunted and went back to his whopping big cigar.

"Hello," Nate said pleasantly, and the plants jumped. "I'm here for a replacement agent."

One of the plants curled its dewy lip at him (or the small swirl of dust that represented him), but pulled out the list anyways. He scanned it, small eyes flying, until they stopped and he grinned. Evilly.

A carnivorous plant that grins evilly is not a very pleasant sight.

"Chase Lopes," he croaked, pulling the cigar out of his mouth for a moment. "Cell 16B, to your left. Have fun, kid." He chuckled as he shoved the clipboard back into the drawer and slammed it shut. His partner paid no attention; he was too busy ingesting a fly. (Nate hoped it was a fly; Upstairs had gruesome-yet-innovative ways to recycle discarded carcasses of Sues and/or agents.)

Nate shuddered and flew into the dark and dank kennel. Growls and snarls followed him; the smell of fear and insanity hung heavy in the air. He read the brightly lit signs on the bars, occasionally stopping to peer into the bars – he always drew back quickly. (Insane Recruits are not a pretty sight.)

When he arrived at the cell that contained his new temporary partner, he repressed a shudder and peered into the bars. A girl sat there, her dark blond hair in one long braid that reached her waist, her back against the far wall. Her eyes, amber-like, glinted in the dark. Not amber, more like-

"Wait - don't tell me, you're my new partner." Her voice sounded hollow, as if she was a honeydew melon and someone had just taken a spoon and scooped all the motivation right out of her.

Nate nodded, and she groaned. "Great, just what I need. An invisible, stuck-up queer with authority problems." She got onto her feet and approached the bars; Nate drifted back a few feet. She grinned. "One more inch and you'll be right in range of one of Clarence's flyaway sneezes."

Since he didn't want to know the results of one of Clarence's flyaway sneezes, he urged Chase out of her cell and hurried her along the dank corridor, careful not to bump into the walls. _God knows what touched those walls._

He floated beside Chase, who was staring right at him.

Wait a second.

"How can you see me?" he asked, whirling to face her. She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a Mary Sue, remember?" she answered coolly. "HQ was getting a little short of assassins, so they resorted to recruiting the 'Sues of underappreciated fandoms. I'm from Wheel of Time."

He smiled. "Hello, Chase," he said, sticking out a hand. She grasped it (Nate ignored the shock that went up his arm as she did; he didn't encounter anything corporeal for 5 years or so) and shook it firmly, a hint of a smile touching the corner of her mouth. "I've read all the books and seen all the fanart. Who did you lust after?"

"Perrin," she said matter-of-factly. "Rand's too angsty and Mat's too much of a flirt; I was his close friend and a Wolfsister. I became an Aes Sedai within a week and can see everything, including invisible people. I also used to have a _sa'angreal_, before HQ took it away-" the twist of her mouth indicated that she wasn't pleased with the officials at all "-and now all I have is the link with the One Power. I've tried touching it in the cell, but they disable any special powers you have there. Maybe-" a faint blue glow surrounded her; Nate floated back a few inches, and she smiled "-I can touch it now." She glowed brightly for a few moments, and then flared.

After a few moments of blinding light, Nate's vision returned to him slowly, and he saw what looked like a bug floating where Chase used to be.

"Great," the bug buzzed disgustedly. "Every time I touch _saidar_ now, I'll probably be turned into a different wonky thing. Thank you, Laws of Universal Comedy."

With a pop, she changed back into her normal self. A voice floated over the intercom, sounding amused. _Don't touch it again, Miss Lopes, unless it is completely and utterly necessary. And no, you won't be getting your _sa'angreal_ back; we're returning it to the White Tower, where it belongs._

"But I made it myself!" Chase whined. "It never even saw Tar Valon-"

_Yes, we know,_ the voice floated again, sounding slightly irritated now. _Still, an agent shouldn't be in possession of so powerful a tool unless she **knows how to use it responsibly.** Frankly, Miss Lopes, no agent in HQ can confess to being responsible. So sod off and have a nice day._

"I hate the Marquis De Sod," Chase muttered as she started towards the response center, with Nate following her. "He always manages to insert his name into intercom messages. Face it, bub, you're not about to become a major star in Hollywood; I highly doubt anyone would hire a plant."

_You'd be surprised! _the voice floated again, sounding defensive. _Whose leaf do you think it was in _Bug's Life_ that they balanced all the food on, huh? HUH?!_

"And a great job you did of that," Nate muttered, and then flew through the door to the response center before the Marquis succeeded in throwing a metaphysical fireball towards him.

The scene that greeted his eyes nearly made him rescind that last thought. The room was – smoking. Nate flew through the ceiling fan on the wall to turn it on, and then nearly passed out.

Mackenzie was lying asleep on the sofa with a blanket covering her and a tray of food on a little table next to her; on the two ends of the sofa stood what suspiciously looked like little fiery demons from hell. One was wearing enough ugly gold jewelry to make a gangsta jealous and munching on a turkey bacon sandwich, and the other one was wearing a stethoscope and reading a book made of Pyrex®.

"Wha…?" Nate stuttered. Chase gave a squeal of delight, donned what looked like a fireproof apron and oven mitts that were hanging on pegs next to the door and raced towards the two demons. They leapt into her hands and she cuddled them, a reminiscent smile on her face as they purred with satisfaction.

Nate repeated his sentiment of earlier, and Chase looked at him with a 'are you completely imbecile or is it just my first impression?' look, and answered him.

"These are mini-Balrogs from OFUM; Elrind is on loan from Jay and Traduil belongs to Mackenzie." The fiery demons nodded, and Nate cautiously settled down into the chair next to the console on the other side of the room. "You can speak to them?"

"Uh-huh," she said happily while tickling Elrind under the chin; he giggled, a scary sound to be coming from a demon of shadow and fire. "I was the manager of their lava hot tubs."

"I…have a feeling that…you shouldn't continue," Nate said. "For the sake of my sanity."

"Wow," Chase said seriously. "You're still sane?"

"You know how they have those fake windows in the Ministry of Magic?" Chase nodded. "Well, Upstairs maintains something similar – an imitation sanity field that follows every agent around. It's like the SEP field attached to the patch on your sleeve, but this doesn't come off. It wears thin very quickly, though; being used too much, and all."

/BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!\

"Joy," Nate muttered. He flew to the console and took a look at the report. "Ohman. They messed with the WRONG PERSON…"

"Who're they messing with this time?" Chase asked interestedly, approaching the console. Nate put up a hand and stopped her in her tracks.

"For your first mission, Chase, I would rather you not wear out your shield too fast." Muttering to himself, he opened a new window, typed something and clicked 'send'. After a few moments, the computer beeped and he opened the reply.

"Hallelujah," he muttered and set the disguise thingy. Pressing the red button, he motioned Chase through and flew in after her.

The portal was about to close when Chase yelped and glowed blue. A small sliver of portal was left open, and Chase darted through it, returning within a few minutes with their duffel bags, a bow and quiver with arrows and the axe. She stopped glowing, and the portal snapped shut. Nate gave her a thumbs-up, took his bag and started walking, telling Chase about the mission.

"She's a neglected teenager that has special powers…"

---

"Boy," Chase said, wrinkling her nose, "she sure sounds nasty."

"And that was the best of it," Nate said grimly. "There's also—Ah! Here we are. Finally."

Before them was a state of confusion. Legolas was leaning over an impossibly beautiful girl, trying to talk to her. The girl was being a b!tch. Nate was not happy.

"I suggest we eliminate her as fast as possible," Chase opinioned, seeing Nate's murderous expression. Shall we portal forward?"

"With joy," Nate growled and opened the portal.

---

"The Elf next to me moans, 'Why, why me? Why, why me? Why, why me?' The Elfy next to me moans, 'Why, why me?' in agony!" she sang rather loudly, referring correctly to Legolas, who was now rubbing his temples in anguish. With about a week left of this to go through, the prince was unwavering in his decision not to give in to her yet.

Looking back, Chase wasn't so sure that the decision to join Tara's party was such a good idea, judging by Nate's face and the whiteness of his knuckles holding the reins of his horse.

"Shall we do her in now, good sir?" she whispered to him. He hesitated, and then shook his head. "There's a really juicy charge coming up. Wait a few more minutes."

Tara turned, just in time to see- and hear- Legolas find out that his hair was ablaze with green fire: he shrieked a very unmanly shriek, jumped off his horse, and began running in circles, Tara grinning the whole while. However, after about two minutes of complete hysteria on the Prince's part, he realized that the fire was not actually burning his hair, but was simply there, flickering away, eventually, into nothing, he turned to a still-smirking Tara with murder in his eyes.

"He would save us time," Nate muttered, and then spurred his mount; he reined the horse in when he was between a fuming Legolas and a smirking Tara.

"I'm sure you'll thank me afterwards," he said to a confused Legolas, and then turned towards Tara with an evil look in his eyes.

"Taryn – or better known by now as Tarianna AKA Pain-In-The-Ass – you are charged with really bad grammar; portraying Eru Ilùvatar as a quack god; using words too big for your breeches; creating a location mini-Balrog; messing with the characters of Thranduil & Legolas; pissing off Mackenzie by worshipping her god; being the most annoying Sue ever on purpose; portraying ME magic as typical Jordan-esque stuff; being extremely stupid; pissing us off, and being a Mary Sue." He motioned Chase forward, and said, "Bind her in Air up to her neck, please, so this'll go faster." Chase glowed blue, and Tara's eyes bulged; she could not move a muscle beneath her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, and Chase stuffed that with a gag of Air.

"Your sentence – death. And I think I know just the way…" Nate said with a gleam in his eyes. "Chase – hand me a bar of 100 Grand, please."

Chase fished the candy bar out of her backpack and handed it to Nate, who proceeded to jam it down Tara's throat. If possible, her eyes bulged even farther, and she attempted to breath, clawing at her throat.

The Elves in Legolas' escort looked on with relieved looks on their faces; Legolas looked as if he was ready to kiss Nate's toes. When Tara's thrashing died down and the glaze of death covered her eyes, Nate grabbed her, opened a portal ad dismounted his horse; stepping through, he waited for the regular weightless feeling, but it didn't come. He sighed with relief and moved aside, allowing Chase to come through.

"Boy, that was short," she said; the portal winked out of existence behind her. "They were cheering by the time I dismounted. Howya doin', Mack?"

Mackenzie was sitting in the armchair in the corner, feet up on a stool and reading 'Fires of Heaven'. Snapping it shut, she looked at Nate with wide eyes. Looked AT him, not THROUGH him. "Who are…NATE?!"

"The one and only," he said, grinning. His grey eyes sparkled merrily.

"How?"

"Upstairs said that if this mission is completed as fast as possible, I get my body back. I think they couldn't put up with the b!tch any more than we could." He turned to Chase, who was perched primly in the chair next to the console. "And thank God we finished it that fast," he said and sprawled on the couch. "I never did like the name Tara."

"And why is that?" Chase asked.

Nate raised a single, coal-black eyebrow. "Haven't you ever heard of 'My Immortal', and 'XXXbloodyrists666XXX'? 'Vampire' and 'Enoby'?"

Chase shook her head.

Nate grinned ferally. "Well then…let me introduce you…"

---

In the cafeteria, an agent cocked his head to listen. His partner, who was immersed in a decanter of Bleepka, asked, "What is it, Steiner?"

"Screams of agony," he said, returning to his spaghetti. "Sounds like someone was just introduced to Ebony."

The agents both winced, and didn't dwell on the subject any more.

---

**(Mackenzie's A/N: Yes, there is such a horror. It's HarryPotter, actually, and if you search for that mess of x's and 6's, you will become numbed as well.**

**This was a Sue that admitted that she was annoying, but she did it ON PURPOSE. I hate those; they think it makes them cool.**

**Have a nice day!)**


End file.
